


One-person R&D Department

by Garchomp445



Series: TESICQATPLH and its aftermath [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Exposition, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garchomp445/pseuds/Garchomp445
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia finds something especially interesting to ponder, and takes a day to find out all she can about a specific new weapon in the shepherd's arsenal. Perhaps with enough research she can even develop her own version. Relatively exposition-heavy.</p><p>This fic does not require reading the rest of the series to know what's going on, but there are a few references if you have.</p><p>If you're just here for Cordelia/Gaius and Cynthia/Severa fluff, that's at the very end, in the epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-person R&D Department

Cordelia had been staring at it all week. That sword was just such a unique and effective weapon; she had to investigate further. It started out fairly simply, just a few glimpses during battle while it eviscerated their enemies. She’d watch it outrange a normal sword, piercing a swordmaster through before it even gets close, and wonder why those kinds of swords aren’t more common. Then she’d see it duel a lance, the bane of normal swords, and be at no disadvantage whatsoever, its length allowing for a fair fight. After that battle, she thought that it might act similarly to a lance, thanks to its length, but then saw its wielder use it far swifter than any axe, allowing it to parry and riposte much like other swords. Cordelia wasn’t usually overly obsessed with weaponry, but she was an accomplished smithy. Since the current wielder of the sword was being totally coy with any information regarding it, in order to attempt to replicate the design, she’d have to ask secondary sources. First, Robin, Miriel, and Laurent usually have information on anything and everything, so she’d definitely pay each of them a visit, but since the sword was found in Regna Ferox, and Tiki mentioned that Flavia might know something about it, Flavia would be getting a visit as well. Satisfied with her mental checklist, Cordelia resumed her day-to-day activities, perhaps sticking around the storeroom slightly more than usual in case Laurent came for one of his frequent visits there.

She tries to think of where Robin would be at this time of the day, but the tactician usually doesn’t like to be bothered, so perhaps that’ll be the last person she visits, she reasons. Miriel can usually be found in her tent, so Cordelia stealthily makes her way towards the personal tents. If Miriel’s not here, no one needs to know that Cordelia has been snooping around all over camp. She steps lightly on the packed snow, the Shepherd’s journey into northern Ferox having taken nearly two weeks longer than expected. Miriel’s tent is the model of perfection and conformity, the same starched white sheets as everyone else’s, but minus any sort of personalization. Cordelia steps around to the entrance, and speaks loudly, saying

“Miriel, are you in your tent?”

The polite, but curt and short response is

“Yes.”

“Could I come in?”

“If you must.”

“Thank you! I just need to ask a few questions.”

Cordelia passes through the tent’s flap, and acquires a small smile when she sees that the inside of Miriel’s tent is almost the opposite of the outside. She’s clearly deep into research, with books covering every surface, her bed, utilitarian desk, small crate in the corner, and stool that she’s apparently abandoned in the middle of her room. Cordelia smiles politely to Miriel, then immediately says

“So, Miriel, have you done any research on especially large swords?”

Miriel is now paying proper attention, having removed herself from the three journals she was paging through. She stands up straight against her desk with a large, worried furrow across her brow to say

“Not to any significant degree, but what truly worries me is that I had not even contemplated this deficiency in my research until now. The presence of a skilled claymore wielder was, apparently, not sufficient impetus for me.”

Miriel pushes her glasses up her nose intensely, and immediately turns to scribble something else into her notebook. Cordelia awkwardly tries to reply with

“Ah… Um, thanks?”

Cordelia takes a step back to get away before Miriel attempts to rope her into something, but she appears to be satisfied. Cordelia only realizes that something might be wrong once she turns around, then says

“Oh, Miriel. Is everything all right with you?”

“I’m fine.”

Miriel’s voice clearly doesn’t sound fine to Cordelia, her voice isn’t as even as usual. For the calm, collected mage, this is a definite expression of emotion. She assumes that Miriel’s wife could help somehow, even if she doesn’t really pay enough attention to Cherche and Miriel to hazard a guess at their family mechanics. Still, Cordelia calmly says

“I could get Cherche if you’d like.”

“No, it’s likely that she already knows.”

Cordelia starts at Miriel’s response, turns around, and steps carefully over to where Miriel is hunched over her journal. Cordelia tenses up at the thought that Miriel might’ve been able to discover something truly grim. The mage moves her book over to show Cordelia her graphs and drawings, which, while rough and densely packed with information, are very precisely measured. She starts at the top of the page, which shows a bar graph displaying average wyvern sizes. Next to it is a crude drawing of Minerva with her statistics. Cordelia reads quickly; Length: 13 feet; Wingspan: 86 feet; Weight: 127 pounds; Age: 23 years. The last statistic is just shy of Cherche’s own age. Cordelia looks down to the next graph, and realizes what Miriel is upset about. The average lifespan of a wyvern is around 28 years, but Cordelia does notice that the oldest recorded wyvern on the sheet lived to be 61 years old. She gazes past a graph on wyvern feeding habits, and finds another crude drawing of Minerva, but with different statistics. It reads: Length: 14 feet; Wingspan: 90 feet; Weight: 133 pounds; Age: 42 years. Cordelia nods slightly as she backs away to a respectable distance, and says, soothingly

“Miriel, Cherche and Gerome keep remarkable care of their wyverns.”

“Truthfully spoken, but the averages…”

“These are statistics for WILD wyverns, correct?”

“Affirmative.”

Cordelia notices that Miriel has turned around to pay closer attention, but retains her impassive expression. Confidently, Cordelia says

“I’m sure you know this, but most animals live much longer in the care of skilled retainers than in the wild. Just on this sheet, it shows that one wyvern has lived for over sixty years. If anyone could let that happen again, it’s definitely Cherche.”

Miriel relaxes very subtly, her mannerisms shifting back to usual. It’s clear that she’s been comforted, but she refuses to admit that to herself, instead saying

“Hm. You have a point, perhaps additional analysis is worthwhile.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get Cherche?”

In a very annoyed manner, Miriel narrows her eyes to stare down Cordelia, but awkwardly glances in a separate direction from the pegasus knight’s eyes as an avoidance tactic. She turns around to clear the books off her stool, and says

“Your assistance was most welcome, but I must bid you good day.”

“Of course, and I hope to see you around.”

Cordelia leaves the tent quickly, with another errand on her list. She knew that Cherche generally did drills with Minerva about this time, and if the claymore wielder is practicing, too, then that’s just another plus. With a sigh, she hopes that no one else on her list is having major personal problems when she goes to talk to them. Her body is relatively stiff and cold from the wind, but her mind is still as sharp as a tack, thinking up scenarios wherein Robin or Laurent might need some coaching. Perhaps Robin requires an additional hand on keeping up with Anna’s mercantile contacts constantly filtering through the camp? Perhaps Laurent is having trouble pinning Yarne down, sometimes literally? The possibilities are truly endless. Cordelia takes another light step forwards, and raises her head to see the mostly plain canvass tents surrounding her path towards the training grounds. What she doesn’t expect is to be interrupted from behind with a

“Hey! Severa’s mom. Can I talk with you?”

“Certainly, but if you could call me ‘Cordelia’ in the future, that would be very welcome.”

Cordelia responds with a teasing smile in the direction of her conversant, who turns out to be Kjelle. Cordelia perks up slightly, the chance she gets to speak with any of the kids from the future is very limited, so it’s nice for one of them to approach her. Kjelle herself is slightly nervous, Cordelia specifically was a legend in her time, but she remembers how dopey Cynthia’s mom turned out to be to increase her confidence. Kjelle notices that Cordelia hasn’t even slowed down, so walks alongside her as she asks

“I was wondering if I could receive lessons for your lance technique.”

“Of course! Although most of my lance skills only apply while riding a pegasus, I’m sorry to say.”

Humble AND enormously skilled? Kjelle really can’t see how this lady is related to Severa, but isn’t about to press the issue. She notices that they’re already walking towards the training fields, so Kjelle says

“How long can you practice for? I know you’re a busy person.”

“Just one or two hours, I’m afraid, I have a few chores to do before the day is up. What specifically did you want to work on, though?”

“I don’t think my form’s fast enough. Gerome and Laurent usually comment when they think I’m doing something disastrously wrong, but I’m on my own if I want to improve.”

Cordelia notices that she glares at the ground when she mentions Gerome and Laurent’s intrusions, and smiles at her obvious emotion. What an interesting cast of characters the children from the future are. She quickly shifts her thoughts back to the lesson she’ll have to teach Kjelle in order to improve her speed, her brow furrowing slightly at this new challenge. Maybe something will come to her once she sees Kjelle in action, so Cordelia says

“Could you meet up with me at the practice fields? I’ll need to get a practice lance beforehand.”

“Actually, I already have one here.”  
Kjelle smiles in a vaguely smug manner as she shows that she was carrying two practice lances in her left hand. Cordelia commends her politely, saying

“Very strategic! Do you usually carry two?”

“Yeah. I tend to break them fairly easily.”

Well, Kjelle definitely doesn’t have much experience with small talk, but she also seems perfectly content to walk in silence next to Cordelia as they travel to the practice field. It’s not much further anyway, and Cordelia has plenty to think about. Given that Kjelle breaks practice lances with apparent alarming regularity, she might be treating her lance like an axe, which would make sense given that her current class wields both axes and lances. She continues to ponder the potential mistakes or specializations Kjelle has which could affect her style while trudging through the snow.

 

\--

 

Cherche’s Minerva crashes into the snow again, both Cherche and Gerome on the sidelines while Gerome’s Minerva appears to coach from the sky with a strange, high-pitched cackle. Cherche’s Minerva nods slowly, glares up into the sky, and lunges for Gerome’s. She’s clearly learning, though, as the charge is merely a fake-out for a swift mid-air brake, which allows her the upper hand in this aerial wrestling match for the first time. Gerome’s Minerva caws happily as she’s tackled to the ground, and Cherche’s helps her back up to even the field again. Cherche and Gerome are both extremely pleased, even if Gerome’s outward expression is still hidden by two masks. She turns to him, saying

“It’s so funny to think that Minerva is fighting herself. It would usually be quite the philosophical quandary, but she’s managed to turn it into a sporting event!”

Cherche punctuates her statement with a slight, amused smile, and Gerome secretly enjoys her happiness. He brings the conversation back around to a serious bent, as he asks

“What do you think of their duel?”

“It’s very productive. I can’t believe we’ve never had them do this before, honestly. Your Minerva really knows exactly what to teach herself, and looks so proud of my Minerva’s progress. It doesn’t hurt that they’re warming each other up with all of this movement, too.”

“That’s very true. How about their combat techniques? Do you know much about wyvern wrestling?”

“Despite wrestling Nowi myself from time to time, I actually don’t know any of the particulars of wyvern combat. It’s never gotten dire enough that we’d have to teach it.”

Devilishly trying to bait out more details from Gerome with her subtle implication towards his doomed timeline, Cherche is disappointed when he just responds with:

“Yeah.”

She is interrupted from a potentially awkward situation from Cordelia, who approaches from behind to say

“Cherche, could we talk?”

She’s almost alarmed at how serious Cordelia seems. Usually, if Cordelia was approaching her, it was something fun, like a secret bake-off Cordelia and Sumia were organizing to surprise the rest of camp. She quickly whispers:

“Most certainly…”

Before turning around to Gerome, saying

“I’ll be right back, Gerome.”

Cherche and Cordelia take a few steps out of Gerome’s immediate earshot, nearly hidden behind a convenient tent with spare weapons set up in the middle of the practice fields. Cordelia evenly, pointedly says

“You should talk with Miriel. She was reading statistics on wyvern lifespans, and…” Cordelia sighs pointedly, but patiently, then continues: “I’ve only seen her this upset a few times before.”

“Thank you for coming to me. Since Miriel is so loathe to share any of her emotional weaknesses, I’m very glad you managed to catch her this time.”

Cherche gives her a polite smile, but moves back over to Gerome quickly to hastily explain the situation, then calmly walks off of the practice field. Gerome gazes after her with concern, but shakes his head and turns back around to watch the two Minervas. Kjelle has found her way over to Cordelia, and chuckles slightly at the sight of the tent already full of practice weaponry. Cordelia punctually says:

“Would you like to start?”

“Yup. The ring over here is large enough to allow for lance combat.”

“Lead the way!”

Cordelia almost admires her rigour, usually when Sumia and herself want to practice without using a dummy, they just take up more than one ring. Kjelle, on the other hand, adheres professionally to the chalk lines drawn in the snow. They take up stances on opposite ends of the arena, then begin a short duel. The first thing Cordelia notices is that Kjelle is extremely serious and intense in just practice. Her strikes are swift, merciless, and strong. What Cordelia does notice, though, is that Kjelle was telling the truth. Her form isn’t terribly agile, with many strikes overextending just slightly, and a few displaying little to no ability to chain into the next. Cordelia has been mostly on the defensive this entire fight, but once she’s finished her analysis, it’s time to display her own skills. Cordelia pushes Kjelle back with a well-placed jab into her over-extended elbow, then reciprocates on the advantage with a flurry of quick, intimidating blows. Kjelle keeps her cool, and attempts an almost token jab back towards Cordelia, but realizes too late that the pegasus knight is already within range for a piercing thrust through her throat. She gasps, lance against her neck

“I yield.”

Cordelia retreats, a vaguely, but infuriatingly smug look on her face. Kjelle nearly smiles when she sees the intense similarity to Severa’s own expressions, and wishes that she had more time to spar with her, too. Cordelia walks over to Kjelle, saying

“Well, you have remarkably good form, Kjelle…”

“Don’t patronize me. You whipped my ass.”

“Er, I wouldn’t quite put it that way, and in a real fight, if you had managed to land a blow, you would’ve done some major damage, but…”

“So what did I do wrong?”

Cordelia is nearly flabbergasted from Kjelle’s intense bluntness, but it is nice to not have to tiptoe around potentially offensive statements. The pegasus knight backs up slightly, holding her lance to her shoulder, then coughs awkwardly before stating

“I wasn’t stretching the truth, you do have good form. It’s just that your style is so obviously tailored to your class, it’d be hard for me to do much more than basic suggestions. For example, sometimes you overreach for attacks, like this.”

Cordelia gets into Kjelle’s pose and demonstrates the technique, thrusting out too far for a speedy retrieval of her lance. She quickly adds

“That’s how I beat you this time. You overextended, and the opportunity was obvious.”

Kjelle has relaxed into an alert, upright position, and says

“Huh. No one’s ever said that before. Of course, you also dealt with my attacks better than most, too.”

The knight is really not looking forward to commenting on Cordelia’s form any more, that smug smile is just too eerily similar to Severa’s, and it doesn’t even appear that she’s conscious of it. Cordelia nods encouragingly, then continues with her lesson, saying

“Well, on another note, you also sometimes had trouble striking repeatedly. It kind of involves your overextension, but smooth, slashing motions are usually preferable to your fierce stabs.”

“I thought the point of lances was to stab…”

“Yes! That’s fairly slow, though, and takes a long time to retract. Pegasus knights hundreds of years ago used their mounts as additional leverage to pierce armour, sometimes coming completely adjacent to their targets with their piercing strikes. While these were very effective, they tended to put the pegasus knights into unnecessary danger. The modern pegasus knights, er, well, all two of us…” Cordelia pauses for a deep breath before continuing “We use more swift, long-range strikes, or just simple, superficial slashes for lightly armoured opponents. Of course, piercing strikes are still used as finishing moves, but that’s more of the exception rather than the rule.”

Kjelle pays the utmost attention. History usually bores her to no end, but when it’s the history of fighting, that means that it’s something applicable to real life. She tries to think of how she could work this into her fighting style, but Cordelia answers that conundrum before she has to, saying:

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to work that into your fighting style, just hold yourself back slightly when you’re thrusting, and slash when you’re fighting a poorly-armoured opponent.”

“Thanks, Cordelia. Could we try another sparring session so I can practice those moves?”

Cordelia has been stealing glances around the camp every so often, and on this occasion, notices someone moving in the background. Well, specifically Robin walking past. Cordelia quicky states

“Sorry, we can spar again some other time if you’d like, but I do need to leave. Very sorry!”

Cordelia gives Kjelle her lance back, then walks into the rows of tents to get out of Kjelle’s line of sight as quickly as possible. Kjelle feels like it’s a bit suspicious, but doesn’t exactly care enough to call Cordelia out on it.

The pegasus knight walks parallel to Robin through the lines of tents, nearly tripping over grounding posts as she walks between two very close tents in an awkward effort to appear as natural as possible. Soon, even through the chill breeze and tasteless, but dry air, she was directly behind her target, who she greeted by saying

“Robin! Could I have a question?”

The perpetually busy tactician nevertheless turns to see who is asking that question while continuing a steady pace forward, then says

“Certainly! What kind?”

“Uh, actually, I’d just like to know if you had ever done any research on especially large swords.”

Robin stops in the middle of the path to stare at the ground while thinking deeply about that request. The tactician says, absently

“Yeah, that is a good idea… I mean, she certainly puts it to good use… I wonder if Cherche could utilize one… It’s kinda like an axe, right?” Then suddenly stops mumbling, saying clearly “You know, I haven’t really given it much thought. Well, I did a little reading, but I don’t think it would help much.”

“What did you find out?”

“Actually, I meant that I just read one of Sumia’s violent novels that happened to have a claymore wielder in it. Sorry.”

Cordelia chuckles at the tactician’s completely unapologetic ‘sorry’, then says

“Thank you anyway, and I don’t mean to hold you up, but have you seen Laurent or Flavia around?”

“Yeah, Flavia’s in the barracks, and Laurent’s putting out a fire from the bathing tents. Apparently Vaike didn’t know that you couldn’t put coals next to the tent, and Donnel had slathered the canvases in pig fat beforehand to seal in moisture and heat, so it was quite the combination! Don’t expect to take a hot bath anytime soon, I suppose.”

“That’s… very thorough! I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yup! See ya!”

Robin runs off, and Cordelia smiles as she’s reminded of the family resemblance. Morgan and Robin are both such energetic, busy people. Still, she has her own errands to run, so walks briskly over to the mostly melted tent with smoke pouring from it. There’s a small crowd, which explains why the camp seemed relatively abandoned, with a few mages in front, wind tomes still in hand. Vaike is still there, having turned his foible into a social event of sorts, with certain members of the shepherds telling their favorite stories of Vaike messing something up. Before Cordelia goes forth to extract Laurent, she overhears Sully say

“Hey Vaike, remember when you were using a log as a chopping block?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause that’s what you use logs for?”

“BUT neglected to notice the tent line stretched across it?”

“Urk… So I didn’t SCOUR the ground for wires! I got the wood chopped, didn’t I?”

“After taking down half the tent, sure! Har har!”

Cordelia laughs good-naturedly at with the rest of the crowd, Gregor and Nowi laughing especially uproariously, but sneaks through to the back of the crowd where Laurent is hiding. It’s not too difficult to approach him, he’s merely smiling agreeably, looking for a chance to break away. When Cordelia arrives, calmly, casually saying

“Laurent. Could I have a word?”

It’s a good opportunity to check up on her for Gerome, and to leave for more productive activities. He smiles slightly, then says

“Most certainly.”

They step quickly away from the uproar behind them, and Cordelia voices her question.

“How much research have you done on large swords?”

“Such as the claymore currently being utilized in our group?”

“Exactly!”

Each step is peaceful, an interesting reprieve for Laurent. He has been looking for an intellectual discussion all morning, and it appears as though his research into claymores was not fruitless. He stands up slightly straighter, and adjusts his glasses before continuing.

“I researched with Robin’s library for a while, but none of the books therein had anything about claymores. Instead of poring through books, I decided to attempt a simulation of the physics involved. I necessarily inveigled Inigo into assisting my tests, and the results were nearly identical to the other claymore’s in simple power.”

“How could you achieve that? Besides just using an axe, of course.”

Cordelia’s joking smile belies her true intelligence, Laurent ponders. She really would be just as clever as Robin if she just tried her hand at tactics, but he can see how that natural talent for everything could really put a lot of pressure on her. Frederick and her practically take care of the entire camp.

“I took a traditional sword, a longsword like Falchion, and weighted it down throughout the blade and hilt with lead stakes, paying careful attention to place the center of gravity exactly where it was before.”

The pegasus knight interrupts politely, continuing his statement by saying

“Ah, this way, even if it’s nowhere near as useful in an actual fight, you can replicate the physical results.”

“Precisely.”

“Where are we walking, by the way? I noticed you taking the lead a while back.”

“To my tent. Could I ask for a second opinion on my experiment?”

“No problem. I’m just as curious as you are, anyway.”

“Additionally, how are you feeling, medically?”

“Very well. I haven’t been sick for a few months, and all of my wounds from the previous battles have fully healed.”

“Excellent. You aren’t mentally fatigued at all, either?”

“Not really. Anyway, here’s your tent.”

Laurent wonders how she knew that this one was his tent, but enters it with her regardless. The inside is immaculately clean, and perfectly organized. As soon as she enters, Cordelia can already determine his organizational processes. A wooden rack of books with various spell images on them for easy retrieval, a shelf for encyclopedias, a shelf for specific subjects, a rack of jars and bottles, and each shelf seems to have an interlocking pattern on it as well. She asks, just ten seconds after stepping into his room

“Do all of your shelves fit together?”

“Yes, actually, I’ve designed a modular system…”

He nearly pauses as she takes three of his bookshelves and stacks them together, the grooves fitting neatly together, then immediately sets them back apart. He continues

“Which enables all of my luggage to fit into just a few, albeit heavy, rucksacks.”

“Interesting. Where do you keep your sword?”

“It’s posterior to my tent.”

The flap of Laurent’s tent directly opposite the entrance is not completely secured, allowing them to step through, and into a small courtyard in between eight other tents. The stakes and grounding lines make it precarious to walk around, as well as appearing like a mass of wooden spiders. Still, Laurent has placed a wooden dummy in the middle, which is covered in many nicks and tears. He expounds upon the sight, saying

“I had Inigo try out basic thrusts and slashes, which easily rend through the wooden armour that this dummy was equipped with.”

“I see…”

Cordelia picks up the weighted sword, and the center of balance immediately throws her off. Using it with two hands is easier, but she can’t help thinking that Laurent has weighed it incorrectly. She adjusts the bulk of the weights more towards the hilt while Laurent looks down his nose at her off-the-cuff adjustments, totally without consulting him. He holds his tongue as she takes a few practice swings of her own, but more interestingly, he gets to watch the gears in her head spin and crank out new thoughts. She says

“Aha. Sorry Laurent, I never said this, but my interest in this kind of sword is far from educational. I’m actually going to build my own claymore.”

“That was my initial hypothesis. Although I was very excited to see so much interest in science from you, I’m far from disappointed. No offense intended, of course.”

Still, Laurent was slightly hurt. No one, not even Miriel, wished to speak of physical science. She was far more interested in chemistry, and specifically smashing random chemicals together to see what happens. Kjelle sometimes feigned interest to learn how to better kill people, Robin usually fell asleep, and Severa, while she understood, would usually just harshly criticize his theorem, then run off. Cherche could be understanding from time to time, and the Minervas really liked playing with the giant see-saws and rotational platforms he set up. This is the burden that a man of science has to bear.

“None taken! I think I’ve gotten all the information I can, though. Essentially I’ll just be trying to make an exceptionally long longsword, If you excuse the redundancy.”

“Are you a smithy?”

“I’ve forged a few things, but my husband is an accomplished blacksmith. He actually forged our wedding ring.”

Cordelia’s light, breezy smile made even the tiny resentment Laurent felt drift away. It was a childish thought anyway, and he hasn’t tried asking either of the Morgans yet. Maybe Nah would be a skillful accomplice? Anyway, he still has to say goodbye, since she’s clearly getting ready to leave.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“No, thank you for going to all this trouble. I’m sure we can discuss science at another time, too.”

Cordelia swiftly makes her way through the tent, obviously very focused. Laurent returns to his own activities.

 

\--

 

The cobblestone barracks makes for a welcoming, warm cottage, and the company inside is especially raucous. Apparently after the thorough browbeating by most of camp, Vaike has taken refuge in the cozy barracks, along with Basilio, Walhart, and Lon’qu, who seem to be discussing swordplay with Flavia. Cordelia is only surprised that Kjelle is nowhere to be found, and smiles to herself slyly before she enters. The fireplace in the back is burning low, but thanks to the animated conversation inside, it’s still plenty warm. Flavia has the only chair, with Walhart and Vaike standing near the center of the room, swinging pretend swords as a demonstration, Lon’qu sternly leering over at their terrible form.

“No, Walhart, ANY decent swordsman could just pierce your elbow armour, right, Lon’qu?”

“Fool! If I saw such an obvious attack, I would parry with my own sword, or rather, cut them down with my mighty axe!”

Lon’qu nods his head sagely, stating

“Walhart is correct.”

Cordelia enters silently, and taps on Flavia’s shoulder lightly to draw her attention from the discussion before her. Flavia says

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about claymores, or especially long swords in general?”

“Well, it’ll certainly be more stimulating than this dull lot, trying to show each other up should involve…” she yells the next statement at the group of rough-housing fighters, “More ACTUAL FIGHTING than just shouting about it.”

Cordelia is probably a bit too amused with watching most of the men in the room shoot bitter looks at Flavia.

“Would you want to move somewhere else, then? I have a LOT of questions.”

“Eh, might as well. Some fresh air wouldn’t be bad either.”

She hops to her feet, and Basilio tries to encourage Walhart and Vaike to not start strangling each other with a very diplomatic look, and by saying

“Hey, how about we just take this out to the practice field? Although I’m sure Robin could think of a use for even your purple-throated corpses. Ha ha!”

“I had no intention of slaying this mouthy cretin. Just showing him my true power would be sufficient.”

Lon’qu takes Basilio’s lead, and shoves Vaike outside before he can respond with some choice words of his own. Cordelia and Flavia stay where they are, silently amused, until Walhart and Basilio leave as well. Cordelia giggles slightly, then says

“I suppose we didn’t have to move after all. Anyway, on to the interview.”

“Do you have questions written on parchment? I could just write the answers out.”

“Sorry, I could do that next time. Anyway, had you ever seen a claymore like Severa’s before?”

Flavia sits back down, not having moved any significant distance. She ponders it for a moment, but doesn’t need long before she says

“Yes. Only once, though. It was a long time ago, when the Dossenius family was fading into obscurity. See, claymores and other enormously large swords, like Zweihanders, required a ton of skill, and really specific equipment to make. The family who made them used to do well in tournaments, but once the ban on Feroxian families’ participation was put into place, they gradually became less and less relevant. See, they refused to teach anyone outside of their family how to use their weapons, and publicly duelled anyone who tried to make imitation blades. They tried to participate anyway, disguising their kin as ‘mercenaries’, but they never did so successfully, thanks to their infamous reputation. A bunch of sourpusses, they were never particularly respected, even if their weapons were terrifyingly effective. The only claymore I ever saw was being melted down, and at the time, I didn’t think much of it. Just a pretty big sword. After seeing your daughter come back with one, emblazoned with the Dossenius family crest, no less, I did some research of my own. Heh, mostly scouring Basilio’s brain, actually, but I got a lot of that history from letters I sent back to the capital.”

“Wow. Thanks so much, that really was plenty of information.”

With a hearty, but well-meaning laugh, Flavia makes fun of Cordelia’s respect by saying:

“Ha! I only know that because I read up on it this week. If you asked me in a few days, I wouldn’t remember a thing.”  
“Still, it was very helpful. Thank you very much.”

“Helpful? I thought you were just curious. What are you planning?”

Flavia leans forwards, shifting her wide stance from the arms of the chair to her knees to get a better ear. Cordelia is still standing stock still with her hands behind her back, and Flavia can’t help but think that this kid is way too high-strung. Still, that tiny smile and blush shows her softer side.

“Er, I was actually going to make my own claymore. Still, if it’s as impossible as you say, I’ll have to work twice as hard on my designs.”

“Not willing to give it up? Haha, you’d be a good fit for Regna Ferox’s own army. A pegasus knight division would be very interesting.”

“Thank you, but my loyalties lie with Ylisse. Also, again, thanks for the history of the Dossenius clan.”

“Actually, if you’d be willing to have me, I wouldn’t be opposed to a longer chat. You’re as dedicated as it gets in this army; I’d like to know what keeps you motivated.”

Cordelia keeps a neutral face, but flinches internally at that last question. She excuses herself as coolly as possible, but obviously loses some face with Flavia.

“Sorry, I have some chores which I need to get back to. Could we take dinner together in the mess tent?”

“Sounds good to me.”

With a breezy step towards the door and outside, the biting air comforts Cordelia with its cold. Her current dress is much more suited to outside than a warm fire in the barracks, and she actually has been shirking her chores. Crates aren’t about to lift themselves, but Cordelia does know exactly how to work as hard as possible.

 

* * *

 

Epilogue

 

“Mom! What are you doing with Dossenius?!”

“Oh, this isn’t your sword, sweetie. Gaius and I made this.”

“What?! Oh, I see, it’s slightly longer, and the guard’s a bit beefier… On the other hand, that giant forge you had Gaius build really makes more sense now. Although you could make some KILLER jewelry with that thing…”

“Sev sev? What are you… *YAAAWN* shouting about this late at night?”

“Cynthia?! I told you not to call me that!”

“Teehee! I knew that’d make you mad!”

“That’s a reason NOT to make up stupid nicknames!”

“Pff, the only thing stupid is your sense of adventure! See, we could mount these stairs like a great wooden beast, stomping its face in with each step.”

“Of course it’d be a violence related metaphor with you.”

“Fine! It’s a mountain, a babbling brook running down from a peak of ice that we can explore!”

“Neither of us are dressed for a mountain expedition.”

“Aw, would you please just come back to bed? It’s cold up there without you.”

“I… um, yeah, I guess…”

 

As Cynthia drags the embarrassed Severa back upstairs by hand, Cordelia stifles a tiny giggle. Her daughter and daughter-in-law were just so energetic and cute together. Still, it was a small wonder as to why Severa had come downstairs in the first place, until, of course, a signature head of orange hair sneaks through the window with a wry comment.

“Honey? Are you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood with your hammer?”

“Oh, it was that loud? I made sure to dampen the sound with leather and wooden pads next to the walls and doors.”

Gaius leaves a few lollipops on the counter as he shuts the window, not bothering to latch it in his haste to shake his head in a mournful manner.

“Oh, where has my wife’s logic gone… You do know that they only use those for musicians, right?”

“Heh, the rest of my mind is totally intact, I assure you. I was just excited to finish… This!”

With a slight flourish, she unveils her claymore from behind an oil-soaked rag. Gaius nods appreciatively, her handiwork the result of many long hours spent at the forge at night.

“Does this mean you can go to bed at a decent time again?”

“Actually, I’ll get in bed before you. Severa and Cynthia are staying the night, and probably aren’t asleep yet, if you want to visit the upstairs bedroom.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Gaius takes a few steps towards the stairs, but stops briefly to remove his sucker and give Cordelia a sweet peck on the cheek. His sly smile implies that her blush is its own reward.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, thanks for reading all of that. 6112 words of Cordelia talking to random people must've been really fun to read. As always, any comments, criticisms, or kudos are very appreciated.


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